


When We Can Say Goodnight (and stay together)

by buttercupsanddandelions



Series: Toss A Coin To Our Trope Jar [4]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, In this house we bully middle children as is our god-given right as the eldest child, M/M, Mentioned Aiden/Lambert, mentioned Geralt/Yennefer - Freeform, no beta we die like this meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26820256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buttercupsanddandelions/pseuds/buttercupsanddandelions
Summary: Jaskier knows he shouldn’t have listened to Valdo Marx of all people, but any opportunity to surpass his arch-nemesis couldn’t be passed up, even if he had to risk his person to do it. Well, not his person per se, but he definitely did not feel safe traversing through the streets of downtown Novigrad.Or, the one where Jaskier adopts a group of rowdy men and maybe finds the love of his life.
Relationships: Eskel & Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Lambert
Series: Toss A Coin To Our Trope Jar [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926667
Comments: 21
Kudos: 190





	When We Can Say Goodnight (and stay together)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Jaskel discord's trope jar. Make sure to check out everybody's contributions!

Jaskier knows he shouldn’t have listened to Valdo Marx of all people, but any opportunity to surpass his arch-nemesis couldn’t be passed up, even if he had to risk his person to do it. Well, not his person per se, but he definitely did not feel safe traversing through the streets of downtown Novigrad. 

Novigrad is a beautiful city, wonderful really, it’s a place that allows Jaskier to roam from coffee shop to pub to streetcorner playing his music for the masses. Amazing city, great street food, but like most cities, it is a peculiar sort of danger to be caught walking around at night. When the streetlights flicker and you have to dart from light source to light source in hopes of deterring any would-be-foe from getting too close. 

And that’s where Jaskier is at the moment, hopping from pools of light on the ground onto the next and belligerently checking his phone to see if Essi has gotten his DM on where to find the stupid carpark he left his car at. He opens Instagram one more time, praying that the little checkmark with the words  _ Seen _ next to it are gonna pop up under his message. 

Unfortunately, his bad luck seems to continue. 

Jaskier whimpers and looks up at his surroundings. He’s pretty sure he’s been to this part of Novigrad before, but only in the daylight hours. At night, everything looks confusing and that much more threatening. The silence around him is interrupted when a door down the block opens spilling both light and occupants onto the sidewalk. 

It’s three men, each of them clinging to the other like they’ll all fall down if they thought of separating. It’d be cute if they weren’t so loud, their voices carrying down the street, thick with laughter and alcohol. The trio is ambling towards him and it gives Jaskier enough time to make his way across the street so that he doesn’t have to interact with them.

And yet, Jaskier almost wants to be pulled alongside them, to give their frankenstein creation another set of limbs, to be one of those voices filling the air with sound rather than cowering into the collar of his bright jacket and hope that he makes it home safely.

They’re not too far away now, he can just make out the details of them. The shortest, though he still looks like he can pack a punch, is a fiery redhead, curls bouncing as he walks. The one doing the heavy-lifting of their post-pub crawl has a shock of white hair pulled into a messy bun atop his head. And in the middle is the tallest of the bunch, Jaskier thinks he’d only make it to the man’s chin if they were to stand toe-to-toe, has gnarled scars on the side of his face; they look painful but don’t detract from how drop-dead gorgeous the man is. 

While Jaskier doesn’t plan on crossing the street to avoid them, they do come to an impasse as they come across each other; the three men take up the width of the sidewalk and Jaskier doesn’t want to dirty his white sneakers by stepping onto the street gutter. So, impasse.

The redhead speaks up first, his voice only a bit softer than a growl, “Fucking move it, idiot.” He takes a step forward, but it leaves the other two unbalanced. The one with the white hair has to pinwheel his arm to keep the most beautiful man in the world from harm, and honestly, what a service the white-haired man is doing for the world.

“Hello? Anybody home in that empty-fucking head of yours?” The man lifts his hand and Jaskier knows for a  _ fact _ that this man is gonna knock on his head because he seems to be a big ole’ bastard. Jaskier takes a step back and the redhead gives him a pout so childish it makes him chuckle. 

The white-haired man takes a step forward, tugging along his friend, “Did you need help or something? Wait,” he pauses, his face morphing into panic, “can you hear us? Are you deaf? Fuck, Eskel, do the sign thing.” He pushes the other man,  _ Eskel _ , forward and he clumsily makes his way towards Jaskier doing what he presumes to be sign language with his large lovely hands. 

Jaskier reaches out to touch Eskel’s hands, stopping them from saying something, “No I can hear you, I just,” He looks behind himself to see another group of men, though this time around the group’s rowdiness sends shivers up his spine, nothing like this lovely trio. Jaskier turns back, “well, I lost my friends, and I have no idea where the car park is, my phone’s dying, and it’s kinda scary out here.” Eskel nods his head vigorously, agreeing that it  _ is  _ scary in Novigrad after dark. “So I was hoping that you guys, big fellows as you are, could help me find my way back and deter any would-be thieves of the night.” 

He bats his eyes at them, hoping that his plea for help might garner some sympathy and a free escort to his vehicle. 

The redhead and the white-haired man look at each other, communicating with their faces, though Jaskier can’t tell how because they both have impeccable poker faces. The white-haired man turns back to him and gives a curt nod, “We can help you, we’re gonna drop off Lambert at his boyfriend’s flat,” he tilts his head in the direction of the redhead, “and my girlfriend’s place is right by the carpark so we can walk you there.”

If Jaskier could have heart-eyes in real life he could, at the moment he could do his best impression of it as this ragtag group of men come to his rescue.

“You, my dear, are a godsend among men, a true gentleman, a one-man crusader for.” 

Lambert interrupts him with a snort, “You done princess? Or are we gonna listen to your bullshit all night?” 

And oh if that doesn’t set Jaskier’s face ablaze. He bites his lip and tries to pull away from Eskel’s grasp but finds that his new-found friend isn’t willing to let him go. 

“Sorry about Eskel, he’s a clingy drunk.” The white-haired man informs him before grasping Eskel’s forearm to pull him away from Jaskier. “C’mon Eskel, let go of the nice man.”

Eskel does let him go, but not before mumbling, “S’pretty man.” He pats Jaskier’s cheek, Jaskier has to fight the urge to nuzzle into the man’s palms because his hands are so  _ warm _ , and allows the white-haired man to pull him away

Lambert pulls away from their group to lead them and as they start their march into the night Jaskier asks, “Do I get to know the names of my savior? I already know this one is Lambert and gentle giant back there is Eskel,” he spins on his heel, it does not nearly look as cool as he meant it to be, and starts walking backwards, “but I don’t know your name. If you don’t tell me I’m gonna start calling you the white wolf or something.” 

Jaskier almost falls over because Lambert starts cackling. “What? What’d I say?” He turns to start walking forward again.

Lambert throws an arm over his shoulders, his laughter making the both of them shake, “How’d you know Geralt’s fursona?” He barely gets the word out before he starts giggling again, his face almost as red as his hair.

Jaskier tries to turn around to see if there’s any change in Geralt’s facial expression, to see if Lambert’s telling the truth because that would be hilarious if he was, but Lambert’s grip is too strong on his shoulders.

Geralt growls out, “Lambert.” The ferocity in his voice makes Jaskier tingle and boy is he glad he’s not Lambert right now.

“Don’t be mean, Lamb.” Eskel slurs out. Lambert’s grip on his shoulder loosens enough for him to turn and Jaskier is ready to simp. Eskel, lovely, gorgeous, gentle giant of a man is pouting. He feels the urge to tug on Eskel’s lower lip with his teeth and has to suppress the urge because the man is obviously too drunk to hit on. Jaskier turns away from Eskel and fights the flush trying to light up his cheeks like a beacon.

Lambert continues on his bullying tirade, “Oh no, Eskel, I’m allowed to be mean.  _ You _ didn’t have to find the ears and the tail.” Jaskier can’t help laughing at Lambert’s disgust, “Like seriously man, put that shit where people can’t see it, had to bleach my eyes that day, blegh.”

As funny as Jaskier finds the situation, he does feel guilty that Lambert is kinkshaming his friend, “Hey, people can like what they like. Safe, sane, and consensual and all that jazz, right?”

“Oh it’s not the kink that bothers me,” Lambert spouts off, “it’s the fact that now I know how my brother likes to fuck, and oh gods kill me now,” he pauses, “wait a second.” He tugs on Jaskier’s arm, making him stop in his step, “You never told us your name.”

Jaskier feels like an idiot, how did he forget to introduce himself after all this, he lightly smacks his own face, Eskel makes a sympathetic noise which delights Jaskier to no end, “I’m so sorry. It’s, uh, Jaskier.”

Eskel chimes up, sounding so excited that he knows something, “Buttercup, pretty and poisonous.”

How does this man continue to make himself the most endearing man alive? Jaskier turns to face Eskel and Geralt once more, “Yeah, it means buttercup. My babcia used to take care of me as a kid and that’s all she ever called me. I much prefer it to Julian, a stuffy old person's name if you ask me.” 

Lambert snorts, “Of course your name would be a flower, look at what you’re wearing.” He plucks at Jaskier’s jacket sleeve, the smooth colorblock nylon making a rasping noise as he touches it.

Jaskier yanks his arm away from Lambert’s grabby hands, “Excuse me, this, my dear, is vintage. No touchy.” He smacks at Lambert’s arm and gets a chuckle from all three men as a response.

He waits for Lambert to start leading the way back to his flat to slink to Eskel’s other side. “So, dear heart, how do you know Polish? Or should I wait until you’ve sobered up some to ask?”

Eskel stares at his face, it would be disconcerting if he didn’t find the man so incredibly attractive. Looks like he’s still a bit too drunk to answer him properly, however Geralt comes to his aid, “Eskel just got accepted into a doctorate program for medieval literature. It’s why we’re out celebrating actually.” 

Brains, brawn, and beauty. This man is ticking every single one of Jaskier’s boxes. If he doesn’t get Eskel’s number by the end of their walk he truly might perish. “Oh? Where’d he get accepted to?”

“Oxenfurt.” Eskel answers him, “I didn’t think I’d get in because it’s all,” he waves his hand, “you know, but I got the letter today, and, uh, freaked out a bit.”

Geralt mutters, “That’s an understatement.”

Lambert promptly calls him out, “Geralt don’t be mean.”

“As I was saying,” Eskel speaks over them, “I freaked out and my brothers decided to drag me out to have a good time and, yeah, here we are.”

Jaskier grins, so Eskel wasn’t as drunk as he thought he was, though there’s still a bit of glassiness to his beautiful amber eyes, “Here we are indeed.”

Lambert butts in, “Only problem with this one, is that he doesn’t know how to have a good time even if it kicks him in the ass.” 

Eskel flushes and Jaskier fights a coo at the splotchiness of it, “I know how to have a good time, it’s just that no one wants to have a good time with me.”

Jaskier can hear his heart crack in two, who wouldn’t want this man.

“Who wouldn’t want you?”

And there goes Jaskier’s big mouth.

Eskel makes eye contact with him before darting his gaze away, “Plenty of people. Scars aren’t the most attractive thing.”

Geralt and Lambert huff in indignation, Jaskier retorts, “Well fuck them, I think scars are sexy. Shows that you survived whatever tried to hurt you.”

Jaskier bites his lip once he realizes what he said, but Eskel is glowing so he can’t hold on to the regret, not if it makes Eskel look like that.

They eventually come to a stop in front of a row of brownstones, this particular one they’re in front of has it’s porch light on, “Well this is me.” Lambert announces, he pulls a ring of keys out of his jacket pocket and starts to march up the steps.

Eskel pulls away from their little group, “Do you think Aiden will mind if I crash on your couch, Lamb?” 

Oh, he wants to leave. Maybe Jaskier shouldn’t have mentioned the scars. He winces, but lets Eskel go without stopping him.

“I thought you were gonna stay with Geralt and Yennefer?” Lambert turns the key in the lock and opens the door, letting a flood of light onto the steps.

Eskel shrugs, “I’m more tired than I thought.” He takes a step towards the stairs.

“Alright that’s fine. See you later Geralt, Buttercup.” He doesn’t look back towards them as he steps inside the flat.

Jaskier wants to stop Eskel from following Lambert inside, but he has nothing to say for once, so he stays by Geralt’s side. 

Eskel takes one step onto the stairs, pauses, and steps back down. He turns to face them, “I know I’m still drunk right now, but I was hoping that I could see you again, sober this time.” 

Jaskier has never felt such a high, he feels that any moment the sun will burst forth and shine upon them, that birds will swoop in and sing their birdsong, that he will float away with how happy he is in just this single moment. 

He doesn’t even realize he’s gone silent until Geralt nudges his side, “Yes!” he shouts slightly too loud for the time of night. “Yes, I would love to see you again. I can give you my number?” He pulls out his phone from his pants pocket, its screen is black when he taps the power button, “I would ask for yours, but my phone died on me.”

Eskel grins, small and bright, and pulls out his own phone. Jaskier gives him his number and for a second they’re dumbstruck and smiling at each other like they have nowhere else to be before Geralt grunts, “Can we go now?”

“Right, yeah, you should go.” Eskel starts to walk up the stairs backwards, “I’ll see you later Jaskier.”

“See you, Eskel.” Has Jaskier’s voice always sounded this dazed and dreamy?

“Bye Eskel.” Geralt calls out, but he gets no response before Eskel shuts the door behind him leaving the pair of them in the porch lights.

“Dick.” Geralt utters and leads them onward. “Didn’t say bye to me.”

Jaskier laughs in delight, “Oh Geralt are you really pouting because your big brother didn’t say bye to you?”

Geralt nudges his shoulder with his own, “Shut up, I’m not pouting.”

“Whatever you say white wolf. Hey, can I ask about your fursona?”

Geralt groans, his shoulders falling like the weight of the world is on them, “I will leave you here by yourself, Jaskier, don’t think I won’t do it.”

Jaskier nudges him in turn, a smile in his voice, “No you won’t. What would your big brother say?”


End file.
